The Space Between Breaths
by Eve Royal
Summary: He's waiting. Waiting for something to happen. But until it does, he's content to just hold her. There's nothing else for him to do. I/W; from "Thirty Kisses"


A/N: As many of you know, I had a story up called "Thirty Kisses." It was my hope to actually write 30 stories for this couple. But, as you can all see that it's been two years since I updated, I've decided to take that story down and post each 'story' as a separate oneshot. That way, if I do come up with any ideas I can post them, but you're not forever waiting for something that might never arrive.

Again, I apologize. I hope you forgive me.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Host_ by Stephenie Meyer. Idea taken from LiveJournal Community "30 Kisses".

Theme #4: Our Distance and That Person

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The Space Between Breaths

It's cold. Very cold. It shouldn't _be_ cold, as we're in the middle of a desert, but still. I feel cold.

"_Ian..."_

This cyrotank I'm holding is the source of most of this cold. I know that. Still, I can't stop myself from clutching it harder, drawing it closer, hugging the chill to my body.

"_Ian. Ian, you have to let go of the tank. This isn't healthy."_

I think I'm afraid to loosen my hold, to be honest. I remember what Doc was going to do; I recall the image of Jared pushing the Doc against the wall, trying to save a glow... A glow so bright, yet so small you couldn't imagine what it actually was.

A bugger.

A parasite.

A _soul_.

"_Ian, come on. No one's going to hurt her. I promise."_

I've let people see her. I'm not _that_ possessive. But I refuse to let her go, and I don't want to leave this room. I don't want people staring at the tank trying to find where _she_ is inside of it. If they see what she really looks like...

"_Ian, you have to eat."_

They don't love her like I do. No one could love her like I do. And because they can't, they can't understand. Hell, sometimes _I _don't even understand it! But I've gotta try. I have to protect her. She can't die. She can't. Because if she did...

"_Here. Have some food. You don't have to starve yourself, you know."_

What would I be? A vengeful human whose sole _(soul!) _purpose is to destroy...

Destroy what? The aliens, of whom _she_ is a part of? Or the humans of whom I am?

Oh, Wanda! I can't think straight without you now!

"_Ian! Ian, did'ja hear? Mel's got a plan! We're gonna find Wanda a host!"_

Don't you care? Don't you care that I love you? I love you so much I can't let you go. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

"_Ian. Ian..."_

"Ian."

A hand falls on my shoulder and my head jerks up. A rush of air escapes my throat as I gasp at Jared. His face is serious. So very, very serious. But there's an inner calm behind that seriousness that wasn't there before. A calm I know came from Melanie. Melanie, who is only here because Wanda...

I glance down at the tank in my arms.

...Wanda is here.

The hand on my shoulder shakes me and my arms tighten around the tank to keep it safe and from getting jostled. "Don't disappear on me yet, O'Shea. Do you have any idea how long you've been like this?"

I vaguely remember getting up to drink and to use the latrine. I vaguely remember taking the tank with me as I left, my eyes never leaving my Wanderer's holding place.

"Awhile," I answer, my voice hoarse from its long rest.

There's a snort to my right, away from Jared. "That's an understatement," a woman mutters.

I know that voice. I know that voice, even if I don't know that tone. Which can only mean one thing...

Melanie Stryder.

I glance over and see her with her hands folded across her chest, her hip jutted out as she rested on a leg. A posture one does not associate with Wanderer. In fact, I've very rarely seen any expression of annoyance on her face.

But apparently, neither the posture nor the tone is uncommon to Melanie.

Between Melanie and Jared, right in front of me, is Jamie; his eyes bright with excitement.

I smile weakly at him. He's such a cute kid. "So you're gonna find a host for Wanda, are you?"

He grins and Melanie and Jared start, the hand falling off my shoulder. I've surprised them.

Jamie giggles. "They didn't think you could hear them! But I knew you could."

"Well," Jared starts, his face reorganizing itself into an expression of defence and annoyance. "It's not like you were answering."

My lips pull up in a shaky grin and I'm slightly surprised at how stiff the muscles are. How long was I out?

"We were just wondering," Jamie says, pulling my attention back to him, "if you wanted to come."

I blink at him. "Come where?"

Melanie nods towards the tank tucked away in my arms. "To find a host for her," she explains gently, her tone reminding me of Wanda. "Don't worry," she continues. "We're taking every precaution we can."

I look back at Jamie and shake my head. "Nah..." I say, hugging the tank closer to me. "I don't care what she looks like," I confess quietly.

His smile is so large it almost splits his face. The cold fades for a moment as the glow from his smile warms my heart. It would do the same for Wanda, that I know.

I feel Jared stepping away, and with him leaving my lucidity fades too. My eyes are drawn back to the tank holding my Wanderer and I feel my body unconsciously closing around it; protecting it from all sides.

Their voices are murmurs now; whispers that go in one ear and out the other. My focus is on the soft humming of the tank, the humming that tells me that Wanda's asleep.

Living, not dead. Not buried like she asked. Just sleeping.

I rest my cheek against the tank, feeling the chill seep through my pores and cool my blood. Soon, she'll be awake. Soon, she'll be back with me.

Soon, I think desperately, pressing my lips against the icy metal of the cyrotank; soon, I'd have my Wanderer back.

- - - END - - -


End file.
